


Second Chances

by phoenix_writing



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_writing/pseuds/phoenix_writing
Summary: Harry and Draco's paths cross under unusual circumstances.
Series: Second Chances [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576147
Kudos: 34





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few years post Deathly Hallows but without the epilogue.

~*~

Draco jolted awake, adrenaline surging through him. He grabbed his wand from the bedside cabinet and tried to orient himself, wondering what had woken him. There was a muffled crash and the murmur of words that Draco couldn’t quite hear from his bedroom, but it had the tenor of cursing. There was another crash, and Draco slipped out of bed. He eased his bedroom door open and crept down the hallway. The cottage was well protected, but there still seemed to be any number of idiots who thought even five years after the end of the war that the only good Malfoy was a dead Malfoy.

He followed the noise to the kitchen, where he found that someone was leaning over a prone form spread across Draco’s kitchen table. (The items that used to be on the kitchen table were now scattered across the floor, explaining the noise.)

As Draco watched, a ball of light appeared over the table, and in its glow, Draco caught a flash of blond hair on the body on the table, and that looked like—

Draco attacked, and the figure leaning over Draco’s mother whirled around, blocking Draco’s spell and revealing that blood was oozing down his all-too-recognizable face.

“Damnit, Malfoy!” Harry Potter snapped. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Draco cast again, but Potter blocked it once more.

“What did you do to my mother?” Draco ground out.

Potter looked at him like he was an idiot. “I didn’t do anything to your mother.”

“Step away from her right now!” Draco yelled, sending another curse at Potter which the man blocked once again.

Potter actually rolled his eyes, the wanker.

“Malfoy, would you calm down and think for a moment? Your mother told me how to get here so I could bring her somewhere safe. I was going to look for healing potions next. Did you want to keep fighting, or did you maybe want to make sure that your mother is all right?”

This gave Draco enough pause that he actually let up in his barrage of spells. Distantly, he noticed that while Potter had defended himself—and, incidentally, Draco’s mother—he hadn’t thrown anything back at Draco. The cottage was under Fidelius, so while it was possible that Potter had gotten the secret from Narcissa under duress, since Potter was the person Draco would vote least likely to torture someone, it seemed marginally more likely that through some insane set of circumstances, Narcissa had voluntarily given up the information, as Potter had said.

Grudgingly, Draco put up his wand, noticing how much more relaxed Potter immediately became, though his eyes were still wary. Well, Draco wasn’t going to be letting his guard down anytime soon, either.

“What happened?” Draco demanded.

“Ambush and kidnapping attempt, as far as I could tell,” Potter said. “There was a lot of spell fire, and someone had anti-apparition wards up. I think your mother got hit with a few things. She told me where to Apparate, but she passed out during the Side-Along. I was just doing a scan to make sure that there was no permanent damage when you decided to attack.”

“Potter, you broke into my house and were looming over my unconscious mother.”

Potter opened his mouth and then, by some miracle, seemed to think better of it and closed it again.

“Scan away,” Draco said, feeling mildly magnanimous in his victory. “What potions do you want?”

Potter scanned. “Pepper-Up. A couple pain relievers and a blood replenisher if you have one.”

Draco retrieved the potions, and when he got back to the kitchen, Potter was helping Narcissa sit up. Draco rushed over.

“Mother, how are you feeling?”

She gave him a slightly pained-looking smile. “Much better now that I’m here, Draco. Thank you, Potter.”

“Harry, please,” Potter said with a smile. “Here’re the potions.”

Draco duly handed them over, deeply relieved by his mother’s return to consciousness. Potter had her take the pain reliever and then the Pepper-Up, and he quaffed the blood replenisher himself, followed by his own pain reliever. Draco was reminded that there’d been blood on Potter when he’d arrived.

“Are _you_ hurt, Potter?” he asked.

Potter waved this aside. “I’ll be fine.”

“Harry,” Narcissa began.

Potter shot her a look. “You need to get some rest.”

She considered him for a long moment, then, to Draco’s surprise, she simply nodded.

“Draco, can you help me to my room?”

Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and led her carefully down the hall to the spare bedroom that was always ready for her visits.

“Are you really all right?” he asked, once they were in the room.

Narcissa nodded. “I will be fine. Harry is a force to be reckoned with.”

“What was he doing there?” Draco demanded.

He was confused by the entire sequence of events, to be honest.

“I called him.”

Draco blinked at her. “You what?”

She pulled, of all improbable items, a Galleon threaded onto a chain from beneath her neckline. “A way to let him know if I was in trouble.”

It took Draco a moment to put his confusion into the form of a question.

“Why would you tell Harry Potter if you were in trouble?”

“He gave the Galleon to me after the trial. He said if I ever needed him, he would come.” She stared down at the Galleon for a long moment and then looked up at Draco. “He’s very loyal, and he believes in repaying his debts. I … assisted him in the forest, and he insisted that the debt stood.”

Not even his mother explaining what she had witnessed had helped Draco understand what had actually happened in the forest that day, but not even Draco had really thought that Potter would be acknowledging any debts between himself and any Death Eaters, reformed or otherwise.

His mother suppressed a yawn, and Draco realised that now was really not the time for his reflections.

“Get some sleep,” he told her. “Call if you need anything.”

She nodded, and he pulled her into a careful hug, mindful of her healing body. She hugged him back firmly, then released him to press a soft kiss to his forehead before she laid down in the bed.

Draco made his way back to the kitchen, wondering if Potter would simply be gone, but not only was he still in the kitchen, he was actually fixing the mess that he had made of the table when he’d laid Narcissa down on it.

Would wonders never cease.

It had to be this which was responsible for Draco saying, “Tea?”

Potter looked completely startled, but then his face creased into a surprisingly bright grin. “Please.”

So Draco put the kettle on and got the tea things ready, listening to the sounds of Potter cleaning up after himself.

Draco brought the tea tray over and set it down on the table. He poured, let Potter add his own milk and sugar.

“Thanks,” Potter said, bringing the mug up to lips to blow on it, the steam puffing off the top.

“Thank _you_ ,” Draco said.

Potter eyed him for a moment, and then he smiled again, this one softer, a little bit sadder.

“Prejudice is what got us into this mess in the first place. We have to stop the cycle somewhere.”

Draco blurted out, “You didn’t give _me_ a Galleon.”

Potter looked surprised, and Draco flushed, horrified by what he’d just revealed.

Then Potter’s lips tipped up faintly. “I tried, actually. After the trial. You didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

And … Draco couldn’t really deny that. He had been determined to avoid the Saviour of the Wizarding World, and if Potter had tried to give him something, Draco had no memory of that fact anymore. And if he were being completely honest, he could also acknowledge, “You rescued me from the Fiendfyre. I think that makes us even.”

“Does that mean we can start fresh now?” Potter asked.

Draco considered all the reasons why that was impractical and then shrugged and nodded, “Why not?”

Potter grinned, downed his tea in several long swallows, and rose to his feet. “Excellent. Please tell your mother I’m glad she’s all right.”

“You’re leaving?” Draco asked, almost managing to make the question sound neutral.

“Yeah, I left in a bit of a hurry, and I need to get back and give them some sort of explanation. At least I don’t look like I got into a knife fight anymore.”

Draco rose to his feet. “Thank you. Again. I, uh …. My mother means a lot to me.”

Potter gave a very serious nod. “Family’s important. I’ll be seeing you, Malfoy.”

And then Potter was gone, and Draco was left to reflect that it was unlikely they would actually see one another anytime soon, but at least neither of them had tried to kill one another. Honestly, notwithstanding how it had started, it was probably the most mannerly exchange they’d had in roughly a decade. Possibly ever.

Draco finished his own tea and went to bed with something that he firmly told himself was _not_ regret.

Two days later, Draco opened a small envelope delivered by owl, and a Galleon with a hole in it fell out onto his palm. Draco clutched the coin and opened the letter.

_Just in case._

_H_

Smiling to himself, Draco reflected that maybe there really was such a thing as second chances after all.

~*~

_Finite incantatem_


End file.
